


hung up on you

by storyop



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, also i know kyungsoo is actually straight irl, but for the sake of this fic please suspend your disbelief, this story is the kinda shit you can only get away with when you're writing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyop/pseuds/storyop
Summary: plot twist: it turns out kyungsoo has no problem with chanyeol kissing guys if it's him he's kissing





	hung up on you

**Author's Note:**

> you all know EXACTLY what this fic is based off of. it's nothing but pure fluff all the way through.
> 
> for jonghyun; i know you're looking good babe

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kyungsoo has plans for murdering (at least) six people. He already knows how three of them will die — he has it detailed out in the pages of one of his notebooks (probably the one that fell off his bed when he was getting up this morning) with diagrams and everything. Well, diagrams is a strong word, because it’s really just a stick figure drawing of a guy falling into a volcano that he’d done with the stub of a pencil he’d found lying on his desk — but still. He’d put reasonable effort into the drawings. The other two deaths are less gruesome; one will involve a runaway bale of hay and the other a beach umbrella. He has about fifteen tabs open on his laptop and interspersed among fics he _swears_ he’s going to read soon are google searches reading _what are the slowest acting poisons_ and _really unique ways people have died_. He’s on top of his game. Mostly. Because what he can’t figure out for the life of him is how to actually start the goddamn story. Mildly irritated at himself, he pulls his iced coffee towards himself and takes a long, head-clearing sip, careful not to spill any of it over his keyboard and ruin the only thing that gives his life any meaning.

“Do Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun stands before him, wearing a shit-eating grin (he makes a mental note to look up where that particular phrase originated) and smelling faintly of chlorine. His hair is slightly damp, too, all of which can only mean that he’s just come straight from practice. See, Baekhyun’s a swimmer. And a really, really good one at that. So good it’s irritating. Baekhyun’s just one of those people that have their lives together and excel at everything they try, and that includes somehow becoming best friends with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo would willingly lay down his life for him, which is ridiculous. There’s something wrong with him.

He takes another sip of his drink.

“Do Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun says again. “I am deeply wounded by your neglect of me.” Kyungsoo looks up again to see his arms spread wide. He dumps his backpack into the seat opposite Kyungsoo, not looking “deeply wounded” in the slightest. The steady hum around them — the one where it’s a hundred people talking and you don’t know what any one of them is saying unless you focus, one at a time, like holding a slide under a microscope — does not shift. Even Baekhyun cannot disrupt the flow of a bunch of college students discussing homework in the library.

“If you were to kill someone,” Kyungsoo asks, “how would you do it?”

Baekhyun doesn’t even blink. “Drop a piano on their head, probably.” He thinks for a second. “Yeah, piano. It would be really symbolic, don’t you think?”

“Symbolic of what?”

“My prodigy-ness.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not a word,” Kyungsoo mutters. “And that’s not how symbols work, either.”

Baekhyun ignores him, which is totally fair, because Kyungsoo had ignored him in the first place. “What do you have so far? Anything good?”

“Well,” Kyungsoo says, “Yoongi will be pushed into a volcano. I did my research, and there are apparently a hundred ways to die volcano-wise, so I just closed my eyes and picked one and it happened to be the one where his lungs would char from the inside and he’d hit the surface already dead.” Baekhyun nods, slow. “Jimin will be driving through farmland in his BMW — green — when a bale of hay will hit his car out of nowhere and cause him to lose control and crash. Hoseok will be enjoying his time at the beach when the wind will pick up, and as it’s being evacuated he’ll be stabbed through the chest with a runaway beach umbrella.”

“Oh, I _like_ that one,” Baekhyun says. “What better way to go?”

“I just can’t figure out how to start this.”

“Well,” Baekhyun says, standing, “I’m no writer. But a story is not a story unless there’s death and kissing, and you already have one of those down.” He twists the cap of his bottle off. “I’m gonna go fill this up. And hey, look, there’s Chanyeol. Perfect timing; he knows just how much you _hate_ to be left alone.”

Sure enough, even as Kyungsoo is turning his head Chanyeol is sliding into the minimal space beside him and letting out a soft groan. His presence hits Kyungsoo like a ton of bricks; it’s weird how out of all of his friends it’s Chanyeol that he’s always been hyper-conscious of.

“I need cuddles,” Chanyeol says. He has bags under his eyes the size of continents and looks like he hasn’t slept properly in over a week. Where he finds clothes that are huge even on his frame is beyond Kyungsoo, but he’s wearing an oversized sweater that covers all but the tips of his fingers and smells like the lemon detergent Kyungsoo always brings from home. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You don’t need cuddles,” Kyungsoo says, clicking his tongue softly. “You need sleep. Badly. You’re not helping anyone by forcing your body to give up its rest. Least of all yourself.”

This makes Chanyeol laugh. He won’t admit to anyone — definitely not to Chanyeol — but Kyungsoo really likes the way he laughs; his whole body shakes with his mirth like he’s so happy that sound isn’t enough to convey it. He really, really likes it, even if he does often find himself victim to Chanyeol’s over-enthusiastic smacking of whoever is closest to him whenever something is particularly humorous.

“Oh, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says, dimple and all, “I really do appreciate your tendency to sound like a self-help book.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “I’m your roommate. It’s in the contract that I make sure you’re taking care of yourself and not wasting away into some slow and unremarkable death.”

Chanyeol’s the roommate, but he’s also the friend, because _roommate_ is too clinical a term for his relationship with Kyungsoo, and because Chanyeol’s not really the type of guy that will allow himself to be sequestered into one neat labeled box. Which is too bad, because Kyungsoo likes those, even though nothing in his life stays in them.

“I won’t die if I get cuddles,” Chanyeol says, burying his face into Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

Kyungsoo had been a little apprehensive, at first, when the two of them had met for the first time and Chanyeol had shaken his hand with a little too much enthusiasm, saying _Hi! I’m Chanyeol! You’re so cute! It’s nice to meet you!_ in an effort to mask his initial shyness. Chanyeol is loud, but really awkward, and Kyungsoo is neither awkward nor loud. They’re opposites in a lot of ways — large where he’s small, loud where he’s soft, all bony knees and big arms and an overflow of exuberance — but they just _work_. They work so well Kyungsoo hadn’t even had the thought of picking a different roommate when their first year was done and over with. They work so well Kyungsoo’s willing to give up his sleep so he can listen to one of Chanyeol’s new compositions and simultaneously fend off his requests that Kyungsoo feature on an upcoming track.

“You okay?” Chanyeol asks, and Kyungsoo settles back into the sensation of having Chanyeol’s head on his shoulder, arm pressed against his. “You kinda zoned out there for a second.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about…” The word us is right on the tip of his tongue, but it’s a rather strange thing to say, so he just says, “writer’s block.”

“Oh, no,” Chanyeol says sympathetically. “Not That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Kyungsoo feels a burst of this weird, fleeting emotion in his chest. “I think I just need to put this on hold for a bit, honestly. Come back to it with fresh eyes.”

Chanyeol hums, rests his chin on Kyungsoo’s shoulder so he can look at the notes on the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyungsoo can see Chanyeol’s mouth shaping around the words he has written, and then he thinks about how if he turns his head just a little and Chanyeol turns his head just a little their lips could meet in a kiss feather-soft, and then he thinks about how strange it is that he’s thinking about that. _Must be the proximity_ , he thinks. This close he can see the wrinkles in the corner of Chanyeol’s eyes.

  
  
  


It was junior year of high school when he’d first stumbled upon the chaotic world of fan fiction. Sure, he’d watched a few seasons of _Supernatural_ and read the _Harry Potter_ books quite a few times, but there was no clear marker that you had been truly initiated into fan community than creating original work — or at the very least consuming it. His very being had been irreversibly changed when he’d read a Jonghyun/Kibum slash fic three days into the school year and realized that he had been one incredibly naïve individual, despite having followed the singer-rapper duo for the good part of a year. He’d posted his first fic a month and a half later — a minimally-edited, sloppy story about a picnic gone wrong and Jonghyun finding himself in the middle of a whirlwind of strawberry jam and sandwich crusts. It had been bad, incredibly so, but it had also been the most transformative experience of his life.

The point is, he’s still writing fic. Granted, it’s much better fic, and he’s moved from RPF to a TV series after a nasty run-in with the underbelly of K-Pop fic authordom, but he’s still writing it. If you wanted to map his growth, you were better off looking at the words he’d written (well over two million, some better than others) than pretty much anything else.

But fic is not a career. And it’s becoming less and less of an escape, too. There’s only so much time he can spend living inside his head, regardless of the fact that his head is much more preferable to the real world. And fic can’t help him prepare for fucking _midterms_ which are right around the fucking _corner_.

Kyungsoo grabs the pillow nearest his head, puts it over his face, and groans.

“I swear you’ve had at least seven crises in the past two days,” comes Chanyeol’s voice. He can’t even refute that. “You sure _you’re_ getting enough sleep?

“Help,” he says, voice muffled by pillow, but Chanyeol hears him anyway. He feels the mattress dip beside him, and a beat later he feels Chanyeol’s fingers against his scalp. It’s nice. He’s nice.

In the beginning of the school year, Chanyeol had mentioned that he’d be spending most of his nights in the studio or the library anyway, so they might as well push the beds together to let Kyungsoo have more space to sleep. Sometimes Chanyeol does make it back; it’s not even weird, because Chanyeol falls asleep before his head even hits the pillow and is gone before Kyungsoo stirs awake the next morning.

“Maybe if you stopped letting the pillow cut off your air supply,” Chanyeol suggests, and Kyungsoo lets him pry it out of his fingers. “Hey. What’s on your mind?”

“Can you put your hands back in my hair,” Kyungsoo blurts.

“Stop avoiding my question,” Chanyeol says, but does as he’s told.

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo says. Then sighs. “Everything.” He raises his head just a tiny bit, squinting. “Wait a second. Did you change your hair?”

Chanyeol’s hazy form turns so his face is out of Kyungsoo’s view, and then Chanyeol is settling Kyungsoo’s glasses onto the bridge of his nose, soft. Everything comes into focus all at once; Chanyeol’s three-shades-lighter hair, the half-smile on his face, the two inches of space between them. When Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, Chanyeol fidgets.

“Do you… not like it?”

“No,” Kyungsoo says, tongue feeling oddly heavy in his mouth. “I mean, no, I do like it. It suits you.” He smiles a little. “Are you trying to impress someone?”

Chanyeol’s face turns bright red. “No.”

“God, you’re a terrible liar,” Kyungsoo says. “Who is it?”

“It’s not important,” Chanyeol says, looking away. “What about you? Kissed any girls lately?”

Kyungsoo bites down on his lip. Chanyeol shuffles a few inches away from him. “No. After Taeyeon, I didn’t really bother. I’ve been really busy.” He and Taeyeon had dated early his freshman year; they’d been good, but nothing special, and they’d split amicably. Taeyeon had dated Baekhyun for a bit afterwards before she’d realized she was solely into girls and Baekhyun had realized he was solely into Taemin. “No girls.”

“No girls?”

“No girls,” Kyungsoo says, starting to feel uncomfortable about the way Chanyeol still won’t look at him. “Hey… um, I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, no,” Chanyeol says, flashing him a small smile. His hand starts moving through Kyungsoo’s hair again, and Kyungsoo lets out a content sigh. “Your cheeks look thinner, by the way.” He pokes a finger into Kyungsoo’s right cheek and Kyungsoo snaps his eyes open to glare at him, ineffectively so. “You should eat more.”

“Yeah, as soon as I stop wondering if I’ll ever actually graduate,” Kyungsoo mutters.

“That’s... Kyungsoo, we’re not even halfway through our second year of undergrad. What makes you think you won’t graduate?”

“Because I’m stupid?”

“Well, maybe,” Chanyeol says, smile growing, “but there’s no shortage of stupid graduates, and you’ll be one of them. Promise.”

Kyungsoo smacks him with his pillow.

  
  
  


“I am _so hungry_ ,” Baekhyun says.

“And I,” Kyungsoo says, not even looking up, “am two seconds away from putting a can in a sock and hitting you over the head with it. Please shut up.”

“But I’m hungry,” Baekhyun insists. “I’m sick of doing stoichiometry, too. Wanna do it for me?”

“Nitrogen and oxygen make…?” Kyungsoo says, and Baekhyun pouts.

They manage to work in silence for all of two minutes when Baekhyun lets out a ridiculously large gasp. “Taemin! My Lord and savior! How was practice?” he asks, talking to the BRRito bag instead of Taemin himself.

“It,” Taemin says with a laugh, “was fantastic.” Baekhyun makes grabby hands at the food, and Taemin obligingly hands it over. “Here, Kyungsoo,” Taemin says, sliding a burrito bowl at him. “Extra cheese, just the way you like.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the best person to ever exist?” Kyungsoo says, not waiting for an answer before diving into his food. It feels like he hasn’t eaten in forever. He should probably stop skipping breakfast.

“I do it all the time,” Baekhyun says around a mouthful of food. His cheeks are bulging, and Taemin leans over to pinch one of them affectionately. “I thought you had to stay later?”

“I did,” Taemin says, finally sitting down, “but everyone’s getting the hang of everything really quickly, and Hyo’s got it all under control.” Taemin and Hyolyn are the campus power couple, minus the couple part, and they too have their whole lives under control. Kyungsoo would hate them if it was even remotely possible to hate them.

“I can’t believe I’m dating the best dancer to ever exist,” Baekhyun says dreamily.

This makes Taemin giggle. “I can’t believe I’m dating the best swimmer to ever exist.”  
  
“No,” Kyungsoo says. “Please. Stop. I like cheese on my food but not in this form. Please, I beg you. I’m dying. Not another word.”

Baekhyun sticks his tongue out at him, because he has the maturity of a ten year old. “Just wait until you find your One True Love. Then you too will be as full of cheese as a Bosco stick.”

“Bosco sticks are nasty,” Taemin says.

“I take back everything I said about you being the best person ever,” Kyungsoo replies.

“Well, speaking of,” Taemin says, dragging his fork through his food, “I totally thought you were dating Chanyeol, but then I walked into a room in the studio that I thought was empty and ended up face to face with him and Jongin making out — which, by the way, was horrifying — so… I guess I’m glad you’re single and he’s not cheating on you?”

“Me and Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo says. His skin prickles all over, like it’s waking up from a long night asleep. “No, we’re not… I mean, I’m glad he’s dating Jongin? I guess?”

“Not sure if dating is the right word for it,” Taemin says, snorting. “More like ‘I’m horny, you’re horny, let’s help each other out.’ Sorry for assuming about the two of you, by the way."

“It’s not a problem,” Kyungsoo says faintly.  
  
Baekhyun is looking at him with a glint in his eye. “Kyungsoo is very straight, baby. Super heterosexual. It’s sad, but that’s just how it is sometimes.”

“My condolences,” Taemin says drily.

Why didn’t Chanyeol tell him? They were close, and they always had been; it’s not like Chanyeol had never known about the girls Kyungsoo had kissed or the crushes he’d had. They tell each other pretty much everything, whether it be superficial or serious problems — so why hadn’t he been told about the fact that Chanyeol’s into Jongin? Chanyeol doesn’t go around kissing people out of the blue, either — underneath all his posturing he’s shy and quite possibly the sweetest person Kyungsoo’s ever met. And he’s a romantic, for god’s sake; what Taemin is saying about them casually exchanging saliva can’t possibly be true.

“Wait, are you sure they were kissing?” Kyungsoo blurts, interrupting Baekhyun in his (disgusting) attempts to feed Taemin. “Like, with their mouths?”

“Kyungsoo, dear,” Baekhyun says. “What else could they be possibly kissing with?”

Taemin shrugs. “Yeah. Like mouth to mouth. Not an euphemism for touching dicks, if that’s what you were worried about. I’d be gouging my eyes out right now if that were the case. I _birthed_ Nini; I really don’t need to think about him having sex.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like what he’s feeling, which seems to be a cocktail of anger and disgust wreaking havoc on his stomach. Why the fuck should he even _care_ if Chanyeol is kissing a boy — or even having sex with one? He’s straight, yeah, but it’s not like he’s homophobic. He’s been fine with Chanyeol talking about his crushes before, and hell, his best friend in the whole world has a boyfriend that he’s been dating for a little over a year now. So he’s totally not homophobic. Right?

  
  
  


He puts it in the back of his mind so he can study for midterms. If there’s one thing Kyungsoo knows how to do well, it’s to lock his feelings up tight and shove them so deep inside he’d have to go looking for them to find them again. In fact, he doesn’t focus on anything apart from studying obsessively; _Young Forever_ continues to air and the fan communities debate once again as to whether Jeongguk and Yoongi will ever get their happy ending, but Kyungsoo pushes it — and any gratification he might get from writing said happy ending — to the side in favor of his grades. Nothing makes him wish he was rich enough to say “fuck school, do what you want” than exam season.

But on the tail end of it all there’s nothing to distract him. Post-midterms is the calm before a storm and the calm after a storm rolled into one, and Chanyeol’s orbit slowly shifts from study sessions at the library to chill sessions at their room. Most times he’s alone, but sometimes he brings Jongin; the two of them never do anything crazier than hold hands while Kyungsoo’s in the room, but it leaves him irritated and prickly.

 _I hate this_ , he thinks, realizing he’s been glaring at the way Chanyeol’s smiling at Jongin for the past two minutes. _What’s wrong with me? This is awful. It’s horrifying_ . Chanyeol is his _friend_ , for god’s sake. There’s absolutely no fucking reason for him to be so… so intolerant.

Baekhyun, because he’s a lot more perceptive than he seems and also because he knows Kyungsoo like the back of his own hand, picks up that something’s bothering him and stages an intervention. Of course, his intervention consists of floating along the lazy river in one of those giant pink inflatable donuts with a smoothie in each of their hands (strawberry for Baekhyun, mango for Kyungsoo), ones they’d picked up from the rec center café. He doesn’t even mind that Baekhyun does not know how to exist away from water.

The intervention also consists of Baekhyun talking and Kyungsoo listening. He doesn’t mind that, either. “My mom called the other day and asked me when I was going to get married,” Baekhyun babbles. “Can you believe it? I’m not even twenty-one yet. I can’t even legally drink in this country, and she wants me to get _married_. It’s ridiculous.” He takes a long, loud sip of his smoothie, and Kyungsoo lazily flaps a hand at him to get him to be quieter, which Baekhyun, in true Baekhyun fashion, completely ignores. “She just wants an excuse to spend a bunch of money to fly out from Korea to see me.”

“ _You_ just want an excuse for your mom spend a bunch of money to fly out from Korea to see you,” Kyungsoo corrects. “Just buy a ring and propose; what could go wrong?”

Baekhyun chokes. Kyungsoo watches him impassively. “First of all,” he says a little breathlessly, “I want to be the one to be proposed to.”

“You are so demanding,” Kyungsoo says. “It’s a wonder you’re in a relationship at all.”  
  
“Second of all,” Baekhyun says, ignoring him, “it’s bold of you to assume that I have enough money lying around to go buy a ring. Of course, that can be easily solved.” He points a slender finger at Kyungsoo. “You,” he says, “should find yourself a sugar mommy and then fork over a couple thousand dollars out of the goodness of your heart.”

“I’ll give you two thousand won, is that okay?”

“Fuck you,” Baekhyun says. “But sure.” He wriggles his fingers at Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo smacks his empty palm on top of his. “It’s two bucks, you cheap ass man!” Kyungsoo snorts. “What about you? Any girl you want to propose to?”

“Jesus, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo mumbles. “I’m _single_.”

“Yeah, poor you,” Baekhyun says, completely without sympathy. “Hey, completely unrelated, but are you and Chanyeol fighting?”

Kyungsoo almost falls off his donut. “Fighting? What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” Baekhyun says with a shrug. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to be talking about all of this. “You two are usually attached at the hip, and lately you just haven’t been.” Baekhyun peers at him. “Or… never mind. I’m probably just reading too much into it.”

Kyungsoo twists the ring on his pinky finger. _It’s true_ , he thinks. _Chanyeol and I used to do everything together_ . They would go bowling every Friday night, and Chanyeol would buy the two of them root beer floats and a greasy pepperoni pizza. Sometimes Baekhyun and Taemin would join them, sometimes Chanyeol’s quiet friend Sehun from one of his astrophysics classes, sometimes Kyungsoo’s Journalism major buddies Jongdae-and-Minseok who were never just Jongdae and Minseok. But at the core of it all it would always be the two of them, except Chanyeol had blown Kyungsoo off last Friday for… for what? To hang out with Jongin? Jongin, who Chanyeol hasn’t deemed important enough to announce to Kyungsoo as his boyfriend, but who’s important enough to skip a night of bowling and pizza? Sure, Chanyeol had told him well in advance and apologized a hundred times, but that was their _thing_.

“Oh, geez,” Baekhyun says. “Earth to Kyungsoo. I never should have said anything.” Kyungsoo’s skin is burning a little from the chafing of the ring.

  
  
  


Sunday morning, Kyungsoo heads into town to stock up on cartons of ice cream. He also buys himself a pack of somewhat expensive gel pens, because the past few weeks have been stressful and he deserves pretty stationery. He feels _much_ better on the way back and smiles all the way up until he opens the door to his and Chanyeol’s room, at which point he comes face to face with Chanyeol and Jongin kissing.

Chanyeol and Jongin.

Kissing.

It feels like several years pass before either of them register that they’re no longer alone, enough time for Kyungsoo to note the fact that Chanyeol has his hands lightly resting on Jongin’s hips, that he’s smiling in between kisses, that he’s — he’s _kissing Jongin_. In front of him.

Kyungsoo feels a bit like he’s going to throw up.

Something about his feelings must show in his face, because Chanyeol’s eyes narrow a little when they make eye contact. Jongin hurries from the room with murmured apologies and a shy smile directed in Chanyeol’s direction, but Kyungsoo does not look away from Chanyeol and Chanyeol does not look away from Kyungsoo.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol begins, but Kyungsoo really isn’t in the mood. He shuts the door a little too forcefully and shuffles over to the mini fridge, unloading his ice cream. “Kyungsoo, listen to me. Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Kyungsoo snaps, putting the last carton inside.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” Chanyeol says, and Kyungsoo finally looks at him. His arms are crossed, lips pursed. The same lips that had been _kissing Jongin_ just a few minutes prior. “Do you have a problem with Jongin?”

“No,” Kyungsoo says. “No, I don’t. He’s great. Very… nice. Dances amazing, too, which is just fantastic. I’m happy for you.”

“Really?” Chanyeol says, taking a step forward. “Because it didn’t look like you were happy just now. In fact, you always act fucking weird whenever I bring a guy over, even when we’re not actually doing anything.” God. It’s true. Everytime Chanyeol has a guy there Kyungsoo just sits there waiting for him to leave. One time Chanyeol had brought someone named Yixing and flirted with him the entire time they were “studying” and Kyungsoo had wanted nothing more than to punch the both of them in the face. “Does it bother you that I kiss other boys?”

“ _No_ ,” Kyungsoo says. “Chanyeol, I don’t give a shit what your love life looks like. It’s none of my business. Boys, girls, whatever — you do what you like. What makes you happy.”

This seems to piss Chanyeol off more. Kyungsoo feels like he’s trapped, that nothing he’s going to say will make things better. “What makes me happy,” Chanyeol says with a little laugh, looking away. “Right.”

“Look, I’m just having one of those days, okay? Or weeks, whatever. I really have no problem with you kissing other boys, or sleeping with them, or whatever.” Kyungsoo feels _sick_. Thinking about Chanyeol making out with Jongin is one thing, but… “Like I said, not my business.”

Chanyeol’s jaw clenches. “Fine.” He pulls a jacket on, not even bothering to look in Kyungsoo’s direction. “I need some space. Don’t wait up.”

“Fine,” Kyungsoo echos faintly. When Chanyeol is gone he sinks onto the bed and puts his head in his hands, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry.

  
  
  


So he goes to Baekhyun.

“I need help,” he says, and he must look sufficiently miserable because Baekhyun drops the paintbrush he’s holding and starts making a cup of tea. Taemin gives him a worried look, although some of the effect is lost considering half his face is painted very sloppily like a tiger.

“Start,” Baekhyun says, putting the steaming cup of tea down in front of him. “And don’t stop until it’s all out.”

Kyungsoo starts telling them about Chanyeol, and how he hates it more than anything that Chanyeol has relationships with men, and how he kind of wants to smack Jongin every time he sees him, and for whatever reason Taemin starts laughing halfway through and doesn’t let up.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Kyungsoo finishes. “I’m not… at least I thought I wasn’t homophobic. And I’m not, right? Because I’m totally okay with the two of you or whatever, but what if I have this weird strain of homophobia where I’m okay with gay relationships only when said gay person isn’t living with me? Because I just… I can’t handle seeing Chanyeol with Jongin, or with any guys at all, really, and it fucking sucks because — that’s fucked up. If I can’t get over my feelings, he’s going to have to find a new roommate, because I don’t want to hurt him but that’s all I’m doing right now.” He blinks. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Taemin covers his mouth with his hand. “Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

“You,” Baekhyun says reverently, “are truly the dumbest person I have met in my whole life.” He reaches over to hold Kyungsoo’s face in his hands, blinking in awe. Taemin slowly slides the cup of tea away from the two of them. “Wow. Kyungsoo, wow. Never in my life have I encountered such… such a brazen display of stupidity. I need to sit down.”

“You’re already sitting down,” Kyungsoo grumbles. “Also, you’re not helping.”

“Kyungsoo, sweetheart,” Baekhyun says. “You foolish boy. You, the light of my life and star of my heavens, you lovely, misguided darling, you the apple of my eye.” Taemin erupts into giggles once again.

“Okay, I get it.”

“No, you clearly don’t,” Baekhyun says, releasing his face and settling back in his chair. “Think about everything you just said, except pretend Chanyeol’s a girl.”

“I don’t…”

“You have a crush on him, you idiot,” Taemin says. Baekhyun nods solemnly. “And a _huge_ one at that. Baekhyun, your friends are so funny.”

Kyungsoo’s mind blanks. “But…”

“But you like girls?” Baekhyun says. “Look, maybe you do. And that’s great — because girls are amazing and don’t you ever forget — but you, my friend, also like Chanyeol. You’re so into him that it tears you apart from the inside whenever he so much as talks about Jongin and how wonderful he is. Thinking about spending time with him makes you so overjoyed that your insides get all mushy and you feel like you’re going to choke on your happiness. You cherish every second you get to make physical contact with him, but you don’t even understand why because you’re not that much of a touchy-feely person — maybe it’s just because he’s warm, and so soft, and you two fit together so nicely. In a totally platonic way, of course. And also platonically, you’re willing to drop everything to help him out. he wants you to listen to a new track he’s been working on? Well, fuck your homework and your grades and even your precious sleep, because damn right you’ll be up all night with him working out kinks and helping him through the blocks in his creative process. Sound familiar?”

“Oh my god,” Kyungsoo says. “Oh my god. I have a crush on Chanyeol.”

“Ding ding ding! I wouldn’t really worry too much about it. I thought I was straight until I met Baekhyun, although I would say I was a bit smarter about it,” Taemin says, taking a sip of the tea that was supposed to be for Kyungsoo. “Oh, poor Jongin. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“What the fuck,” Kyungsoo says, “does that mean.”

“You forget that I, too, am friends with Chanyeol, and that we are frequently partners in lab,” Baekhyun says. “You should’ve heard him when he first met you. He was all mopey about how he had the cutest, most wonderful roommate ever that he wanted to kiss so bad but would never be able to because he was straight. He kinda shut up about it after I told him we went to high school together, but… Kyungsoo, I don’t think he’s gotten over you.”

“I need a drink,” Kyungsoo says. “An alcoholic one.”

“Breaking the law for Chanyeol? I’m gonna need you to reconsider,” Taemin says.

“And I’m going to need Baekhyun to stop telling you everything,” Kyungsoo says.

“No can do, bud,” Baekhyun says. “Now that we’ve fixed all your problems, can you leave so I can paint the other half of Taeminnie’s face?”

  
  
  


Kyungsoo somehow manages to avoid Chanyeol for three whole days. They’re miserable, awful, horrible days, and he misses Chanyeol like crazy, but he takes the time to reflect on the fact that he’s not as straight as he thought he was for twenty plus years of his life. And that it took Chanyeol — brilliant, lovely, kind Chanyeol — for him to figure that out.

But how in the world is he supposed to tell Chanyeol this? How does he go up to him and say _Hey, sorry about how weird I’m being with you and Jongin, but it turns out it’s because I’m jealous of him because I have a thing for you even though you thought and I thought and everyone thought I was straight. Sorry!_ Yeah, it’s Chanyeol, and yeah, he’s one of Kyungsoo’s closest friends, but it’s also _Chanyeol_ and Kyungsoo is kind of terrified.

He’s lying in bed sulking when Chanyeol shuffles inside, letting out a long, petulant sigh. Kyungsoo lifts his head just a bit and watches him pout his way to his side of the bed.

“Hi,” Kyungsoo says timidly.

Chanyeol pouts some more. “Hi.”

“Come here,” Kyungsoo says, soft, and Chanyeol sighs a little as he slides under the covers and pillows his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. He’s warm and he smells good and finally Kyungsoo realizes that all those weird and wonderful feelings rising up in his stomach are the product of him wanting desperately for Chanyeol to kiss him. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“No,” Chanyeol mutters. Kyungsoo presses his lips together and waits. “Yes. Jongin and I aren’t really working out, and I just… I don’t know. He keeps saying that he likes me and he knows I like him but he also can tell that I’m still hung up on…” Kyungsoo’s eyes widen, and Chanyeol blushes a bright red, trailing off. “Never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says, and when Chanyeol gives him a skeptical look, he continues, “I really am, Yeol. I’m sorry I avoided you, too. I just had to… figure out some things.” He smiles. “I missed you.”

Kyungsoo almost cries when he sees an answering smile bloom slowly over Chanyeol’s face. “I missed you, too.”

“Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo licks his lips, heart pounding. “Can I… ask you something?”

Chanyeol eyes him nervously. “Yes…?”

Oh god. He’s going to die. His heart is going to burst straight out of his chest and smack Chanyeol in the face and leave a bloody heartprint on his cheek. “The guy you’re hung up on… is it, uh… is it me?”

Chanyeol shoots up into an upright position. “Oh my god. Um. Y-you… Me? Hung up on you? I don’t… How did you…”

This was a terrible idea. Baekhyun and Taemin and the whole universe were all playing one big prank on him. Chanyeol doesn’t actually have a crush on him. He was stupid to even believe that.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says with a laugh that feels forced even to his own ears. “I guess the answer to that is no. Wow. I totally misjudged. Sorry.”

Chanyeol tugs on his earlobe, cheeks painted red. “Actually… you’re, um, you’re not wrong.”

“Really?” Kyungsoo squeaks.

“Really,” Chanyeol says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize,” Kyungsoo says. “I… I have something to tell you. You were right about me having a problem with you kissing guys — especially Jongin, since the two of you seemed to be getting close to serious — and at first I thought it was because I was being homophobic without even realizing that I was being homophobic.” He takes a deep breath. “But… it was because I was jealous. Of Jongin. And all the other boys you’d ever liked before. Because… because _I_ like you. I guess what I’m trying to say is… if you’re okay with it, I want to be your boyfriend.”

Chanyeol’s eyes get so big that Kyungsoo is genuinely afraid they’re going to fall out of his head. “Like… your _gay_ boyfriend?”

“No, I’ll be sure to say no homo when we kiss,” Kyungsoo replies drily.

“Kiss?” Chanyeol says, in a horribly strangled voice. “Us?”

Kyungsoo blushes. “Unless… you don’t want to?”

“No, no, of course I…” Chanyeol rubs a hand over his face as Kyungsoo struggles upright into a sitting position. “I do. I really do. I thought you were the cutest fucking thing when I first met you and believe me when I say my feelings for you have only gotten stronger. But,” he says with a small laugh, “up until, like, five minutes ago I thought you were exclusively into girls.”

“That’s fair,” Kyungsoo says. “Up until five days ago, so did I.”

Chanyeol grins. “I can’t believe you mistook your _jealousy_ for homophobia.”

“Hey, don’t make fun!” Kyungsoo says. “I actually… I felt really bad, you know. I didn’t want to hurt you, but that’s exactly what I ended up doing.”

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, leaning over to hold Kyungsoo’s face in his hands, “you’re okay. It’s okay. I’m glad you figured this stuff out. Really. I’m very, very glad, promise.” He pauses. “You’ve never kissed a guy before, right?” Kyungsoo shakes his head, even as his heart speeds up to a hundred miles an hour. “You’re freaking out, Soo. Look at me, baby. I got you. Relax.”

Kyungsoo looks, looks at the impossibly soft way Chanyeol’s looking at him. He’s never been looked at like that. He’s never been held like he’s the whole world somehow fit into someone’s palms, either. How had he been this oblivious? His heart has belonged to Chanyeol for over a year now. No one else could have even come close.

“I got you,” Chanyeol murmurs again. He closes the distance between the two of them, and when their lips touch Kyungsoo’s whole body goes cold, then hot. It’s almost too much, all of it, the slip-slide of mouth against mouth and the heat of skin against skin and Kyungsoo goes dizzy with the feeling. It’s perfect, utterly so, like putting on glasses after seeing things blurry all your life — he’d never realized he could feel this way, never thought it was even possible. Chanyeol is filling up every one of his senses right now, his sight his smell his hearing his taste his touch; it’s exhilarating.

Chanyeol initiated the kiss, and he’s also the first to pull back. It leaves Kyungsoo aching for more, so strong that he feels it deep within his bones. “So. How was your first ever gay kiss?”

“I think,” Kyungsoo says, “you’ll have to do a few repeat performances for me to be sure.”

  
  


He is never going back. He’s going to be Chanyeol’s gay, yes-homo, definitely-homo, all-the-homo boyfriend _forever_ , because kissing him is the best thing he’s ever done. It’s not even like they’re doing anything drastically different; they still spend Fridays bowling together and they still watch movies together and they still study together, except now there’s the whole kissing thing involved. And it’s fucking amazing.

Baekhyun had taken one look at him when they’d met up for lunch the day after Kyungsoo’s nerve-laden confession and said, “Welcome to the ranks of the homosexual. And congrats about the two of you, by the way. Man, you should’ve seen Chanyeol this morning — he was practically glowing. His hands were, like, shaking. I thought he was gonna drop the beakers — I was standing by ready to beat his ass.”

Even his writing has gotten better. He scraps all the gloomy shit he’d written when he’d been trying to avoid Chanyeol and also his feelings and makes Yoongi and Jeongguk kiss, and Taehyung and Jimin kiss, and Namjoon and Jin kiss, and Hoseok and Lay (who is part of a different series, but he gives zero fucks about just shoving him in there) kiss, and kiss, and kiss. Baekhyun was _wrong_. No death need be involved to make a story a story.

“Hello,” Chanyeol says, sitting his ass down on the table in front of Kyungsoo and pulling him out of his thoughts. He slides a cup of iced coffee towards him. “I got you some more of this stuff; I figured you’d be running low.”  

“Hi,” Kyungsoo says, a smile coming automatic to his face. It hurts his cheeks how much he’s been smiling lately. “Thank you. Kiss?”

“Kiss,” Chanyeol agrees, putting a hand flat on Kyungsoo’s cheek and leaning down so their lips meet. He flicks Kyungsoo’s cheek as he straightens and Kyungsoo laughs. “How’s your week going, baby?” His hand is a warm weight in Kyungsoo’s hair.

“The usual,” Kyungsoo replies. “Half my professors are great, and the other half I want to strangle. Can you kiss me again?”

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow at him. “I hadn’t realized that you would be so needy.”

“Oh, just come here,” Kyungsoo mutters, grabbing Chanyeol’s collar and yanking him towards his mouth. _I love this_ , he thinks as Chanyeol’s teeth graze his bottom lip. _I love you_. He forces himself to stop thinking — they’re taking the walk slow, and love is a huge step forward, even if it’s one that Kyungsoo has already taken in all but name.

“Can you two not do that in public?” says Baekhyun. Chanyeol startles, and Kyungsoo laughs, patting his cheek. “Even I don’t do that, and I’m shameless.”

“There’s no one here,” Kyungsoo points out. It’s true; they’re in the kitchen on the bottom floor of the dorms and it’s wonderfully empty.

“ _I’m_ here,” Baekhyun says, grabbing the straw next to Kyungsoo’s coffee and stabbing it on the table. The top splits and he slides it out, looking satisfied. “I’ll take this.” He pokes the straw through the coffee and takes a long sip.

“That’s mine,” Kyungsoo says, even though he doesn’t really care.

“You weren’t drinking it,” Baekhyun says. “It’s four in the morning. Let me be.”

“Why are you even here?”

“The coffee machine at our apartment is broken, so I was gonna use the one here,” Baekhyun says. “But since you so graciously decided to give me a free drink—”

“No,” Kyungsoo says, “I didn’t.”

“—I no longer felt the need,” Baekhyun says. “Now, unless you two are actually going to study like me, I need you to go make out somewhere else. I get that you guys are in the honeymoon phase, I really do, but please exit said phase immediately. Or at least exit this room.”

“You?” Chanyeol says. “Studying?”

“Yeah, believe it or not I actually want to pass the MCAT and have some direction in my life,” Baekhyun says. “And also make tons of money.”

“We probably should get out of here before he starts coming after us with ‘fun facts,’” Chanyeol says.

“Did you know,” Baekhyun says, pulling the thickest textbook Kyungsoo has ever seen out of his backpack and setting it on the table with a _thud_ , “that it’s the brain that falls in love and not the heart?”

“We get it,” Chanyeol says, sliding off the table. “You’re a neuroscience major.”

  
  
  


Minseok-and-Jongdae, once they get wind of the fact that Kyungsoo and Chanyeol are now Kyungsoo-and-Chanyeol, invite the two of them on a double date. A _double date_. Kyungsoo, although he’s dated, has never been on one of those before. He feels like he’s graduated from “fake love” to one half of a “one true pairing.” This is it. The greatest achievement of his life, and all it took was some angst.

They go to Minseok-and-Jongdae’s apartment and eat takeout and play Mario Kart and crack bad jokes about their classes. Chanyeol falls asleep at some point on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, and Kyungsoo rests his head in his lap and lays one hand on his forehead and feels at peace.

He wakes up sometime during Kyungsoo doing his best to manhandle him into bed and does the rest of the work for him. Kyungsoo lies beside him and puts a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat beat beat under his palm.

“You’re really cute,” Chanyeol says softly. He lifts himself slightly so he can kiss Kyungsoo’s cheek. “Adorable.”

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, but he’s not sure what to say.

“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” Chanyeol says. “It’s good. I like it.”

“I’ve been smiling a lot because of you,” Kyungsoo replies. “You make me really happy. You know this.”

“I know,” Chanyeol says with a smile, “but it’s nice to hear it from you.” He puts a thumb on Kyungsoo’s lower lip, pulling it slightly downward. “Will you sing for me? Like, on a track?”

Kyungsoo shifts his legs so they’re in between Chanyeol’s, puts his hand on Chanyeol’s waist under his shirt. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Chanyeol says, licking his lips. “That’s… a better answer than usual.”

Kyungsoo intertwines his fingers with Chanyeol’s. There’s a giraffe plushie near their head that he’d bought Chanyeol for his last birthday, even before they were dating — dating — and he’s wearing one of Chanyeol’s shirts, so long it practically goes down to his knees, and Chanyeol’s palm is warm against his. “Chanyeol.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, closing his eyes.

“Look at me,” Kyungsoo says. Chanyeol does. “I love you. I love you, Chanyeol. I love everything about you, even the not-so-great parts, even when you get on my nerves or say dumb things. You care so much. You have the biggest heart. You laugh like if you don’t laugh now, the world will end tomorrow. I love that,” Kyungsoo continues, voice softening, “and I love knowing that I can count on you. That you respect me.” He squeezes Chanyeol’s hand. “I really don’t deserve you, but you’re here and you’re mine and I’m going to appreciate you every damn moment of my life.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “You do. You do, I swear it.” He shifts so that he’s over Kyungsoo, mouth hovering inches from his. “I love you too. You’re my everything, Kyungsoo, and I need you to never forget that.” He kisses him once, twice, again. Kyungsoo wraps his arms around his shoulders and lets his mind drift away.

**Author's Note:**

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